Chapter 78

Anna's POV

Adrian's presence lingered long after he left, his words echoing in my mind: "You're everything I didn't know I needed." I pressed my back against the door, my cheek still tingling where his fingers had traced Aunt Sophia's bruise. The untouchable CEO of Next Robotics had unraveled tonight, showing a raw vulnerability I'd never expected.

My phone buzzed - another late-night work message from him:

"Your analysis is sharp as ever. But this can wait till morning."

Before I could respond, another followed:

"Rest, Anna. That's an order."

And then, softer:

"Please."

That single word - gentle, almost tender - made my heart skip. Even as I tried to focus on work, on family chaos, on all the reasons to keep my distance, his intensity from earlier burned through my defenses. The way he'd looked at me, touched me, claimed me...

My phone rang - Mom's name lighting up the screen. Reality crashed back in, but Adrian's presence clung to every corner of my thoughts, refusing to fade.

"Mom? What's wrong?" My voice sharpened, nerves fraying.

"Anna, you're still up?" Exhaustion weighed her words, a faint rasp threading through.

"Yes  what happened?"

She sighed, long and weary. "Leo called. Aunt Sophia was at the caf  , screaming we ruined Marcus  says we should've warned them about Apex sooner."

I clenched my fist, nails biting my palm. "That's absurd. I begged them for months to ditch those returns  Marcus wouldn't listen."

"I know, honey," she said, her voice fading into a tired murmur. "But Sophia's claiming if we hadn't paid his bail, he'd have fixed it with the investors somehow."

"After we emptied your savings?" Anger trembled in my chest, hot and sharp. "We gave everything!"

"She's scared, lashing out." A cough rattled through her, rougher than it should be.

"You're sick?" I frowned, worry edging out my fury.

"Just worn down  the caf  's been nonstop."

"See a doctor if it lingers," I urged, pausing. "And Mom...stop letting them guilt you. We've done enough."

After we hung up, I sank onto the bed, the night's weight pressing into my bones—Mom's weary cough, Sophia's venom, Adrian's voice still ringing in my ears. Sleep eluded me, his face haunting the dark  those blazing eyes, his desperate "both" confession wrapping around me, his touch lingering on my skin like a brand I couldn't erase.

The alarm dragged me awake, my body sluggish as I stumbled through my routine. I opened the door—and froze.

Adrian stood there, a riot of roses in his arms, crimson petals vivid against his sharp suit. Morning light softened his edges, gilding his dark hair, but his blue eyes burned with a heat that stole my breath  gentle and fierce all at once.

"Good morning," he said, a smile curving his lips, laced with a promise that made my pulse stumble. "These are for you."

I blinked at the bouquet, then him. "Your allergies..."

He cleared his throat, a sheepish flush touching his cheeks. "I might've exaggerated those." His voice dipped, rough and low  a tone that always unraveled me. "Every time Alex sent you flowers, I couldn't stand it  another man marking what's mine."

My breath caught, his possessiveness threading through me like heat. This man—Silicon Valley's steel titan—confessing jealousy over office blooms, claiming me with a growl wrapped in roses.

"I should've seen it sooner," he said, stepping closer, his height forcing my head back to hold his gaze. "What you mean to me."

His fingers trailed down my neck  slow, deliberate  lingering where he'd once marked me, his touch a spark reigniting embers I'd tried to bury. "Maybe then there wouldn't be a 'boyfriend' in my way."

I opened my mouth, words failing as his thumb pressed my pulse  gentle yet commanding, his eyes darkening with intent.

"I know about Daniel," he said, voice roughening as he crowded me against the doorframe, his body a wall of heat. "But it's not real—I see it in you, the way you melt under my hands."

His grip slid to my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me flush against him. "This feels sudden, I know," he murmured, his breath brushing my lips, "but I'm done pretending I don't want you  done letting you slip away, done watching anyone else try to take you."

"Adrian..." My voice faltered, his name a plea as my heart thudded  his touch, his words, unraveling me.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenged, thumb stroking my hip—a slow, deliberate tease that sent fire through me. "Tell me this isn't real."

The roses pressed into my arms, his body pinning me—black paper, a sleek heart card, his heat enveloping me. "First flowers I've ever given," he said, voice low, thumb still tracing my neck  a reminder of rougher nights. "Don't say no."

He stood there  this powerhouse undone, boyish hope clashing with predatory grace  eyes pleading yet burning, making my knees weak. But Sophie's image flared  fragile in his arms, a tether he'd run to.

"My legs are numb from standing," he said, a playful whine slipping through, his grip tightening on my waist.

I laughed despite myself, and he seized it  pushing the bouquet closer, his frame pressing mine in a deliberate tease.

"My arms hurt too," he added, mischief glinting as I took the flowers, his eyes tracking me—hungry, appreciative—when I turned to set them on the table.

"You like flowers—I'll get more," he said, voice rough with promise. "This is just the start."

His heat loomed as he stepped close again, hand bracing beside my head. "Breakfast?" he asked, voice smooth but edged. "There's a spot nearby  just us."

"Not Pacific Heights?"

"Us alone," he said, fingers grazing my jaw—slow, suggestive. "Unless you'd rather my place?"

The heat in his tone flushed me. I slipped away, heading for the elevator, his low chuckle trailing me—knowing, satisfied.

The elevator hummed, tension crackling as his shoulder brushed mine  each sway a deliberate spark. At the restaurant  empty, upscale, opened just for us  he chose a window seat, morning light gilding him, his tired eyes still unfairly striking.

"What do you want?" His voice softened, but that predatory gleam lingered.

"Anything," I said, steadying my tone against his gaze.

He ordered quietly, my favorites arriving fast—maple-cream pancakes, coffee rich and warm. His eyes followed every bite, turning a simple meal intimate, possessive.

"Good?"

I nodded, glancing at the empty space. "Why's no one here?"

He grinned—wolfish, warm. "They don't open this early. I asked a favor...for you."

I stared. "You..."

"No pressure," he said, brushing syrup from my lip—his thumb lingering, dragging slow across my mouth. "Just know I'm serious."

My coffee swirled as I stirred, thoughts spinning. His hand caught mine—firm, possessive, yet tender. "Take your time," he said, voice low, "but don't make me wait too long  I'm not patient when it's you."

Memories flared—his hands rough on my hips, teeth grazing my neck—and I flushed. His eyes darkened, catching it, and he slid beside me, fingers tangling in my hair.

"I miss tasting you," he murmured, tilting my face up. His lips found mine—soft, then fierce, a starving edge as his tongue swept in, claiming me. My hands fisted his shirt, pulling him closer, lost in his heat.

He broke away, breathless, thumb tracing my swollen lips. "Tell me you don't want this," he rasped. "Tell me to stop."

Words failed—my body hummed, caught between memory and now. His forehead pressed to mine, breath unsteady.

"Think it over," he said, rough with need, "but feel this...how right we are."

Breakfast passed in charged silence—his gaze tender, then burning. This Adrian—open, relentless—thrilled and unnerved me. Sophie, family, work loomed between us, but his kiss lingered, a truth I couldn't deny—I wanted to try, even if it scared me.